From Whence Darkness Came
by Jay'a and Shiane
Summary: We all know what happens at the end on ROTJ. We've all seen Episode I. But what about before that...? (This is a Jay'a creation)


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FROM WHENCE DARKNESS CAME

They skulked through the streets like silky black fog. Sliding across the ground, they searched, searched for the Dark One. The Dark One called out to them, summoned them, unknown to even himself. They had little time, little time left to set the Dark One on his path. The nature was there. Now the nurture must be provided.

Three minds, one entity. The smokey fog slipped into the shadows of an alley, and separated. Three minds, three entities. They rolled and entwined themselves in and around each other, all the while maintaining their individuality. _Taking too long, _they agreed. _Must act now._ _Split up, _one suggested. _Hard to coordinate_, another argued. _Must act, must act now,_ the third pressed. And the decision was made.

***

It was an average world of average importance. A working economy, and a working government. Nothing galactically known for its greatness; nothing galactically known for its horridness. Absolutely, completely, utterly ordinary.

There were large cities, small cities, towns, and villages. There were rich people, poor people, and a decent middle class. Governments were democratic and had all the trappings of such: corruption, sincere hope for betterment, scandals, outspoken criticisms taken in stride. As one world among thousands, absolutely, completely, utterly ordinary.

There was panic in the streets. People ran everywhere, trying to get home to protect their children. Something was coming for them, something bad. It broke into homes, schools, and daycares, assaulting the children, especially the younger ones. It engulfed them, made them cry out in pain and terror, then left them stricken and moved on. It seemed to be searching. 

Jerome Benkeel pushed through the crowds, desperate to get home. He'd heard the stories. Some said it was a two-meter tall shadow monster. Others said it was three black demons. Still others nervously claimed not to believe any of it, denounced it as nonsense. But whether liars or simple caught up in the madness, they raced home just the same.

Jerome wasn't taking any chances. He was grateful that his wife had decided to stay home with the baby that day. However, he was determined to personally ensure the safety of his child. 

Jerome couldn't get through his front door fast enough. "Kelly."

She clutched the baby closer. Then she looked up and relaxed. "Oh Jerome, you startled me."

"Sorry," he said, crossing the modest kitchen to embrace his wife and child. "Is the baby all right?"

Kelly stroked the wispy black hair. "Yes, he's fine. He's been so calm and quiet."

Jerome smiled. The child had always been calm and quiet. His eyes held a quiet resolve, belying a strong sense of mind and self. And intelligence. Jerome had such high hopes for the little one cradled in his wife's arms.

Jerome kissed the top of both their heads. He sighed inwardly, hoping that this simple togetherness would protect his family against whatever evil may, or may not be lurking in the streets. He trained an ear to the outside. They were still running, still petrified. He held his wife tighter, happy to be home. 

Kelly shivered under Jerome's hold, and he frowned, at first thinking how absurd that was given that it was the middle of summer. Then he shivered too. Jerome looked down to see if the baby was cold too, and that was when he saw it.

Kelly saw it too. She jumped back, yelling in surprise. Not that it did any good. Whatever black mist had had surrounded the couple's ankles, some of it had followed Kelly in her retreat.

Jerome watched in horror as the mist snaked up her legs, around her hips, and over her back. It kissed her neck, and gripped her arms. Jerome was too engrossed to notice that the remaining mist was crawling up his own body.

The mist around Kelly split itself. Half of it held position about her while the other half coalesced in front. It latched onto the baby's toes, and felt its way up the chubby legs and soft torso.

It moved cautiously at first, as if unsure. But uncertainty was soon replaced by assurance. In one swift movement, the fog surrounded the entire child and ripped him from his mother's arms. Both parents wanted to cry out, to bring their child back to safety. But the strange black mist held them still and silent.

The black translucent bubble of fog carrying the baby floated to the door. The baby, apparently unafraid, reached out with a small pudgy hand. He peered at it curiously, then looked at the door. He slowly turned his hand and gradually pulled back. The door opened.

Jerome, unable to do anything else, widened his eyes in disbelief. _Did my son do that?_ He wondered. _No, impossible._ The fog carried Jerome's son out the door. _No!_ his mind cried. _Leave my son alone! He can't be of use to you. Bring him back!_

"Jerome."

Jerome's eyes snapped back to the other side of the room at his wife's single strangled word. Her eyes met his, reflecting his own pain and anguish at their stolen child. 

Kelly inhaled sharply, arching her back, and the fog disappeared, almost as if it had sunk into her body. She lowered her head to look at her husband. "Jerome," she repeated, this time her voice smooth and sultry.

_First my child and now my wife? What are you, what do you want? _Jerome glared at the mist, then turned his attention back to Kelly.

She turned slowly to the kitchen counter, was silent for several seconds, then turned back. She walked to him and whispered in his ear. "Our child," she said. "Our child will achieve greatness." She punctuated her statement by shoving a kitchen knife into his abdomen. She yanked the implement out and backed away.

Jerome felt faint. The only reason he was still standing at all was the swirling black fog supporting him. But he knew that would not last much longer. These things, these demons, these whatever they were, had stolen his child, possessed his wife, and taken his life. And he had no idea why. Jerome trembled.

The black fog appeared around Kelly again. It seemed to rise from the very pores of her skin. She looked up and for a moment, the black fog released her completely. "Oh Jerome." She stared at his bleeding wound, and slowly fading pallor. She took a step forward, and noticed the knife in her hand. She shook her head, unbelieving. "Oh Jerome. No… No!"

Kelly moved to take another step, but the mist came back in full force. It attacked her body, violently snapping her neck with uncanny speed. The mist released her for good, allowing her already dead body to crumple to the floor, knife still in hand.

Jerome's mist released him as well. Without support and still bleeding, he collapsed and almost blacked out from the pain. He forced his eyes to stay open to watch the two remaining bits of mist as they swirled about each other, merging and dividing. If Jerome hadn't known any better, he'd have called it a celebration. Maybe it was. The mists danced their way out the door, abandoning their victims.

Jerome hurt. And he was cold. He figured he was well into shock by now. He knew he was going to die soon. Too soon for help to come, even if he could summon it. He turned his fading eyesight once more to his wife. _They'll think she murdered me_, he thought. _And they'll be wrong. I don't blame you Kelly. I love you._

Jerome noticed he didn't hurt anymore. He couldn't feel his arms, or his legs. He supposed that was a good thing.

His thoughts wandered. He wondered how long it would take for him to die. He wondered if he would realize it when he did. He wondered if there was an afterlife. He wondered what had brought him to this mess in the first place. He remembered running and demons and children. Children. Child. His child.

Jerome could barely see now. He could barely see the open doorway where he'd last seen his baby boy, stolen right out from under him.

Jerome felt himself fading. He had a few moments, no more. With the last of his consciousness, his mind vainly called out to his son, the one person he'd sworn to protect and failed. _Palpatine…_

***

A/N: Good? Bad? Indifferent? More or leave as is? This is somewhat of a departure from how I usually write, so please send the comments on. –Jay'a


End file.
